THE CHRIST'S BIRTH IN AN INN. HE blessed Virgin travailed without pain, A glorious star the sign, But of a greater guest than ever came that way, For there he lay That is the God of night and day, And over all the powers of heaven doth reign. It was the time of great Augustus' tax, That pays all sums, Even the whole price of lost humanity; From the ungodly emperie Of sin, of Satan, and of death. O, make our hearts, blest God, thy lodging-place! And in our breast Be pleased to rest, For thou lov'st temples better than an inn, And cause that sin May not profane the Deity within, And sully o'er the ornaments of grace. Jeremy Taylor. THE ANGELS' SONG. UN, shepherds, run where Bethlem blest appears, R We bring the best of news, be not dismayed, A Saviour there is born, more old than years, - Amidst Heaven's rolling heights this earth who stayed; In Heaven be glory, peace unto the earth. William Drummond. THE SHEPHERDS' SONG. THAN the fairest day, thrice fairer night! Night to best days in which a sun doth rise, Of which that golden eye, which clears the skies, Is but a sparkling ray, a shadow light: And blessed ye, in silly pastor's sight, Mild creatures, in whose warm crib now lies That heaven-sent Youngling, holy maid-born Wight, Blest cottage that hath flowers in winter spread, William Drummond. A CHRISTMAS HYMN. T was the calm and silent night! IT Seven hundred years and fifty-three Had Rome been growing up to might, And now was Queen of land and sea! Held undisturbed their ancient reign, 'T was in the calm and silent night! His breast with thoughts of boundless sway; What recked the Roman what befell A paltry province far away, In the solemn midnight Within that province far away Went plodding home a weary boor: How keen the stars! his only thought; Centuries ago! O strange indifference!- low and high One that shall thrill the world forever! It is the calm and solemn night! The darkness, charmed and holy now! For in that stable lay new-born The peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven In the solemn midnight Centuries ago! Alfred Domett. THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. RIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning, BRIGHT Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid: Star of the east, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid. Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining, Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion, Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean, Vainly we offer each ample oblation, Vainly with gold would his favor secure; Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid. Reginald Heber. |